Charles Benedict was in a terrific mood when he left police headquarters. Everything was going according to plan. Carrie Blair’s Porsche had been dismembered in one of Nikolai Orlansky’s chop shops. Its parts were scattered across the United States, thus eradicating any evidence that it, and not the Bentley, had been used to transport Carrie’s body.
Carrie’s shallow grave was seeded with evidence that would lead to Horace Blair’s conviction for murder at a trial in which he would be defended, for a hefty fee, by the very individual who was framing him for the killing. Only one thing remained to be done. The police had to find Carrie’s grave, and that would be taken care of very soon.
Benedict looked at his watch. It was a little after eight p.m. His timing was just right. Nikolai Orlansky had a man on his payroll at the jail who could guarantee that Horace Blair would spend the night in a cell next to Barry Lester. Benedict would take his time arranging for bail to be posted. By the time Blair was back on the street, his fate would be sealed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The jailer opened the steel door and Horace Blair walked out. His face was drained of color and his shoulders were stooped. He looked very old, and Benedict guessed that he hadn’t slept. As soon as he saw his attorney in the waiting area, Blair flushed with anger. He straightened up and started to speak, but Benedict held up a hand to stop him, telling him to wait to talk until they were safely away from the jail. Blair erupted as soon as he was in Benedict’s car.
“What the fuck is going on? Why did I have to spend a night in jail?”
“Hey, I know it was tough being in lockup all night, but I made sure they didn’t put you in population. Did they give you your own cell?”
“Yes, but this cretin in the cell next to mine wouldn’t shut up. He kept asking why I was in jail. Then he started talking about how many women he fucked and how he could get me drugs. I tried to sleep but it was impossible.”
“You didn’t talk about your case, did you?” Benedict asked, pretending to be alarmed.
“No. I remembered what you told me.”
“Well, you’re out now.”
“Why wasn’t I released sooner? I told you to get Pratt on this.”
“I did, but he said he couldn’t do anything until the bank opened in the morning. So I called the bail bondsman I usually use, but he had a family emergency. Believe me, I got you out of there as fast as I could. I didn’t get any sleep, either.”
Blair stewed in silence for a while. Then he had another outburst.
“This is outrageous. No one treats me like this. Those detectives are going to see what happens when someone fucks with me.”
“Someone is definitely fucking with you, and it’s not just the detectives. Could Carrie have put the hairs, the blood, and that gun in the trunk of your car? Does she have a key to your Bentley?”
“You think she’s behind this?”
“I have no idea. But someone is setting you up, and she’s the most likely suspect, unless you can think of someone else.”
“I have enemies. You don’t run a business like mine without ruffling a few feathers.”
“Is there anyone you can think of who hates you so much they would kill Carrie, then try to pin the crime on you? Anyone who lost out to you in a business deal, or someone in your company who wants you out?”
Blair grew quiet. “I’ve made some dicey moves in the last two years. There were some very pissed-off Russians who lost out on a bid to build an oil pipeline, and I engineered a leveraged buyout of a high-tech company in California. But that was business. I can’t believe any of those people would try to get back at me by killing my wife.”
“Can you make a list for me of people who might hate you enough to do something like this? We have to cover all the bases. The one thing we know for certain is that someone is definitely out to get you.
“But now my priority is to get you home, where you can take a shower, get some sleep, and eat a good meal. You’re going to have to stay sharp if we’re going to get you through this nightmare in one piece.”